


Missorted

by actmademoiselle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco is a little shit, Hufflepuffs, but in a fun way, draco is a man of his word and Very Angry At Himself Currently, lucius gets what he deserves, odd plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actmademoiselle/pseuds/actmademoiselle
Summary: Uh, why couldn’t Draco think of another way to get back at his father? But no, he had to yell that he could not end up in Slytherin if he so wished in the middle of the hall, at which his father had to respond with a laugh, and so then Draco had no choice but to end up in any house but Slytherin. His father had to know that no matter how young he was, Draco could find a way to hurt him. And to have your only son, a Malfoy, get sorted not only not into Slytherin, but to Hufflepuff, was about the highest insult to your honour you could get. And, well, Draco is a man of his word.His father could really hurry up with transferring him back to the proper House. Any minute now.





	Missorted

The doors opened and Draco felt a shiver going up his spine. It really was happening. Up until this moment, he didn’t truly believe he was going to go through with this; even when he sat down at the Hufflepuff table, even when his name was called out, even when he walked out of the Great Hall he still only entertained the idea. It was fun; it was the ultimate mischief and show of insubordination. Draco would show him. His father would not outlive this disgrace until the end of his days, and from this he would know that when Draco says something, he means it. He could, was able, was capable of hurting his father. And his father would know.

But now as the doors were open and other first years started passing to the common room Draco looked at the hole in the wall with something eating away at his stomach. He can still turn back; run to the Great Hall and put the hat on again and it would yell Slytherin and this would be over. But once he goes through, it’s sealed. Once he goes through, he’s truly a Hufflepuff. His head felt light and he could not form a thought.

“Hop on inside,” said a prefect whose neither face nor name Draco bothered to remember. He smiled, probably encouragingly in his own opinion. “Nothing bites.”

The ‘nothing’ referred to dozens of plants in Draco’s plane of view. He suspected there were more inside, decorating the space and filling it with some calming smell, or whatever. He wasn’t afraid of plants. He’s already met those that bit, and those that swallowed you without biting, and once his mother took him to see a rare specimen called the Tarentunia, which could move using its roots in a manner reminding spiders. That one apparently spit an equally rare and potent poison.

Plants were fine. These were, actually, quite wondrous, and Draco felt drawn to them. They must’ve been emitting some unrecognisable smell, or maybe there were some in this room that attracted people using similar magic that Veelas did. Those were very interesting, and mother never let Draco touch them on his own. No, the problem was that he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to perform this show of insubordination. Wouldn’t it be better, in the end, to just go and sleep in the Slytherin House, like he will anyway? His father will probably have him transferred by the end of the week.

“Come on,” the boy gave him a small shove. “We’re all nice.”

Yes, Draco thought, that’s the problem. You’re too nice. Disgustingly nice. It wouldn’t hurt you to speak your mind once in a while, but you’re afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings and uh, why couldn’t Draco think of another way to get back at his father? But no, he had to yell that he could not end up in Slytherin if he so wished in the middle of the hall, at which his father had to respond with a laugh, and so then Draco had no choice but to end up in any house but Slytherin. His father had to know that no matter how young he was, Draco could find a way to hurt him. And to have your only son, a Malfoy, get sorted not only not into Slytherin, but to Hufflepuff, was about the highest insult to your honour you could get. And, well, Draco is a man of his word.

Draco sighed, closed his eyes and lifted his foot from the floor. He could do it. He put the first foot inside and lifted the other. And then he froze.

Eyes still closed, he considered what he was doing once again. This was Hufflepuff. He despised Hufflepuff. As a result, he despised every single person in this room. He could not, would not, call himself a Hufflepuff!

Draco felt hands grabbing him by the arms and suddenly he was being moved from the doorway into the room, and when he opened his eyes he saw it was that unremarkable boy who put him inside. He even felt like he was allowed to grin at Draco once he set him down! Oh, this will not be forgotten, he’ll pay for making Draco a laughingstock among the students, just let his father hear –

His father would not hear about this. His father will not hear about anything happening in Hufflepuff, because Draco will pretend to have the time of his life, which will only motivate his father to move him to Slytherin faster lest he actually becomes a full-blown, nauseating, idiotic Hufflepuff.

That was fine. The deed was done. Now Draco looked around, ready to face whoever would laugh at him. Surprised, he turned around. No one was looking at him mockingly. No one seemed to care he was just hauled into the common room instead of walking inside by himself. Everyone from first year was talking to each other, trying to make friends and form alliances. Draco decided to carefully move to an unoccupied armchair and observe the scene from the side, where no one else would disturb him.

When he sat down he finally had a chance to survey the room. It was – eerily calm. Draco felt relaxed and content, but that was definitely because his plan was in play. That was simply all. The good feeling was the adrenaline from defying his father. Nevertheless, the warm colours made him feel safe, and he forgot to observe and analyse the other students. After all, if they were all nice, like the nameless boy said, what harm could they cause him? Surely there was no need to care about them enough to find out their character. They were all the same, boring mould of kind-heartedness.

Suddenly, Draco felt something tickling his ear. He straightened. Slowly, he turned back, but the only thing on his side was a branch of a very average-looking plant. He looked at it for a moment. The branch swayed slightly, moved by the flow of air in the room, but after a moment the leaves unmistakably waved at him. He turned back at the same tempo, and sure enough he felt the tickling again. Quickly, he moved his hand and ripped the leaf from the branch and then ducked. He heard no swish. Draco turned around and saw the plant retreating, looking almost sad, into its previous position. Draco watched it in complete surprise. The plant unnerved him, and so he ripped its leaves. In return the plant should’ve tried to attack him and rip something of his in return. This was the way guarding plants acted, and well, Draco never saw such a plain plant that wasn’t a camouflaged guard. He stared at it for what must’ve been a long moment, slowed by the calming effect of the room.

When his name was called from the crowd during the Sorting Ceremony, he walked to the centre of the room with an easy step. He was giddy, filled with the anticipation of the deed. It was now; he was sitting down now, the Hat was speaking out in no time at all. It was now. He sat on the stool and pulled the Hat onto his head, surprising himself by how loudly he thought “Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin.” He felt the surprise of the Hat as well; if you could ever say that a hat took a breath, it was then. It asked him if he was sure.

“Yes, he thought. Not Slytherin.”

“Very well”, the Hat agreed. “But Slytherin could lead you to greatness. It could let you spring your wings the way no other House will. You, my boy, are made for Slytherin.”

“Not Slytherin”, Draco gulped. “I can’t”. But for a moment his heart shrinked.

“Very well”, the Hat gave in. “Where elseshould I put you, mhmm mhmm, your ambitions are high but so is your dedication. You have the fundaments of a great mind and the instincts of a survivor. Truly, the other House where you fully fit would be Gryffindor.”

“No”, Draco’s heart stopped. “Not Gryffindor. Anything but Gryffindor – Slytherin, even, but not Gryffindor”.

“Which House is it that you want, boy?”, the Hat asked. “I feel you have already chosen”.

“No”, Draco shook his head. “Where do I belong? Tell me”.

“You’ve already chosen. Where is it that you want to go?”, the Hat persisted.

Draco realised then that he did already choose. He wanted to ridicule his father, but not making Slytherin would not be ridicule enough; Ravenclaw would be an equally great and respectable House. To be put there would be no dishonour; it might even turn out to be a source of pride for his father – A Malfoy, you see, and a genius indeed. He got Ravenclaw, just like my mother. Slytherin runs in the family, but from time to time we must attempt to help raise other Houses from the ground as well, his father would finish with a small smile. No, Ravenclaw could not be it, it was too good of a House. And Gryffindor – Gryffindor was unthinkable. Draco could not live among half-morons, even for a week. Gryffindor would not only be a disgrace to his father, but to himself as well. There was only one choice left.

“Hufflepuff”, Draco thought, and his stomach revolted at the thought. “Hufflepuff”.

“Very well”, the Hat surrendered. “If that is what you truly want?”

“Yes”, Draco agreed reluctantly.

“Very well”, the Hat answered. “In that case, this will be the first time I sort a Malfoy into– HUFFLEPUFF!”

When Draco stood up the silence was not only evident, it was deafening. Accompanied by no applause Draco took off and started walking towards the Hufflepuff table. Everyone was staring at him, confused as to what has just happened, and how; Draco saw the disbelief on McGonnagall’s face when she took the Hat from him; he caught Snape’s eye and his lack of understanding and he heard Sprout herself take a breath. When he was already halfway there the room seemed to come back to life and the older Hufflepuffs quickly started to applause and yell to give him some courage. As if he needed their help, Draco sneered inside. If his back straightened and his chin went higher as he heard them clap he didn’t acknowledge the correlation. When he sat down and took his glass he realised most of his new Housemates were looking at him, and when he lifted his eyes he realised it was with happiness.

“If we can get a Malfoy, there’s still hope for the rest,” he heard someone murmur. 


End file.
